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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695563">Joseph's Brother, (part one)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose'>Pamela Rose (pamela_rose)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Joseph's Brother [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy growing up in the Mirror universe. You can learn things that will haunt you forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk/Other(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Joseph's Brother [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Joseph's Brother, (part one)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally published in Out of Bounds: Overflow (1983)  This is a repost.  Lightly edited and text corrections.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Earth was still nominally the center of the Empire, the heartland of Humanity—but few of its inheritors had the heart to remain. Its resources had been stripped, its population out of control, the green hills of Earth had evolved into, an ugly, sordid nightmare. Few actually starved; the government was careful about that, and the Emperor had a sentimental fondness for his birthplace that caused him to cheerfully extract exorbitant taxes from other planets—Vulcan, Orion, Tellera, and numerous chattel planets—to support his foundering homeland. But there was no hope on Earth, no future. The rich and powerful abandoned it as quickly as possible. The goal of every Terran was to leave Terra. The Emperor himself ruled the Empire from a lovely planet some six light years away—his permanent vacation home. While Humanity ruled the universe, it’s mother world decayed.</p><p>George Samuel Kirk wanted out. Space was freedom. He wanted a new world, any world where he could breathe free. And the door had just been slammed in his face.</p><p>“Damn it, there must be a way!” He drained his glass and slammed it back down on the table, glaring at his companion.</p><p>“Sure there is, if you have the money or the influence.” The man across the table grinned without much sympathy. “I can tell you a hundred ways to get out of this sewer, but they all boil down to those two little things.”</p><p>“And I don’t have either, Casey! My last chance . . .” He leaned his head against his arm. The liquor was taking its toll. He had been drinking steadily since he returned from the Academy several hours earlier.</p><p>“You’re sure you flunked the tests?”</p><p>“Of course I’m sure!” George snarled. “What the hell do I know about agronomy or phaser schematics? But that was all they had to offer.”</p><p>“You’re sure there’s no openings you can handle?”</p><p>“Dammit, the quota for biologist has been filled three times over. It’ll be years before another chance comes up—and I’ll be past the age limit in three months.” He slammed his fist on the table. “I’ve taken every fuckin’ test in every opening they’ve had . . . and I . . . I can’t make it.”</p><p>Casey nodded. “Too many others wantin’ out just as bad as you.”</p><p>George’s head jerked up. “No, not as bad as me. Nobody wants out more than I do! Nobody. I’d do anything . . .”</p><p>Casey shrugged. “So find another way.”</p><p>“What way?” George snorted. “I told you I don’t have any money.”</p><p>“Your father was in the merchant service, wasn’t he? I thought the offspring of veterans were exempt from the immigration quotas?”</p><p>“Sure, one kid,” George said bitterly. “And my loving father made certain it was brother Jimmy. Even put it in his fuckin’ will. As if the little bastard even needed it. He could qualify without it with his scores.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Casey said thoughtfully, “I remember him now. It’s been a while since I saw him last. Cute kid—smart, too, huh?”</p><p>George growled but didn’t answer.</p><p>Casey stared down into his glass for a long moment before he continued, “Exactly how much do you want off-planet, George?”</p><p>“That’s a stupid question! I’d sell my fuckin’ soul for a chance.”</p><p>The other man looked at him sharply. “We might be able to do business then. I’ll ask around; maybe I can come up with an alternative for you. But it will cost.”</p><p>George’s face brightened. “Seriously? Listen, Case, I’ll do anything. I know you’ve got connections at the space dock. You’re in on any deal that goes down. We’ve been friends for a long time; I’ve done you a lot of favors—”</p><p>“Friendship doesn’t buy what I need,” Casey said coldly. He was an addict and his particular addiction was rare and expensive. Both men were aware of this.</p><p>George shrugged hopelessly. “I already told you I don’t have any money. How can I pay you?”</p><p>“Let me worry about that. If I can work it out, my cut will be part of the deal we set up.” Casey paused, studying the other man closely. “I’m warning you, you may not like the cost.”</p><p>“Damn the cost! Shit, I’d sell my own mother to get away from here!”</p><p>Casey smiled with secret amusement. “Remember you said that. Once I set it up, I don’t want you backing out. It would screw up my reputation. Meet me here tomorrow. Same time.”</p><p>George watched as the man left, then stood unsteadily himself. He felt frustrated and angry at his failure today—and very, very drunk. The walk home sobered him slightly, but he still wavered as he punched the code lock to the front door. His mother was passed out on the floor divan as usual. The video still flickered erratically over her once-beautiful face. She was drugged out on sniffers again—cheap and harmless, except that they took a tiny part of the personality each time until you were vacant, content, and full of emptiness.</p><p>He walked past her scornfully, yet not totally blind to the similarity of their condition. He was hiding, too; running from reality just as surely.</p><p>Was this his future mirrored in her swollen eyes? Did it even matter? Where were the choices?</p><p>He staggered into the bedchamber he shared with his younger brother, catching the door frame to steady himself. A room just for two, a real luxury—a legacy from their dead father who had bought this flat with his blood in a mercenary action on Cygnus II, stilling a rebellion against the Empire. He had died to give his family three tiny rooms all to themselves. George knew he should be grateful, but he felt the resentment boil up inside once more.</p><p>
  <em>Dear god, why not me? I’m the eldest, why wasn’t I chosen? You gave me reasons, Father... so many reasons... the last time you were here. Eight years ago. Nine years since you died and left me without hope. Why should I give a shit for your ‘reasons’?</em>
</p><p>He moved toward his bed but stopped and looked over at his brother. The periodic riots made windows impractical, but the ceiling was a skylight of thick plastiglas. The pale moon poured silver light into the small space, magnified by the cut of the material. He could see the form clearly on the bed.</p><p>For a brief second he could almost hear his father’s voice . . . “I’m afraid for him, George. He’s so little, so delicate. He was only four pounds at birth. You’re strong, you can stand up to things. But how can I know what he will for him? How can he survive here? Can you understand why I must give the legacy to him? You’ll have other chances . . .”</p><p>Yes, he had understood. But even as Jimmy grew and it became apparent the boy was not as fragile as his early years had foretold, even though it became obvious Jim Kirk was bright and healthy and ambitious, nothing changed. Their father’s eye still lingered on the younger, the perfect, the beautiful child.</p><p>George fingered the jagged scar on his cheek, a gift received during a transportation riot when he was ten. Jim was perfect, but he could never be perfect. And what hurt even more was knowing that, even without the scar, he would never be a match for his younger brother . . . in anything.</p><p>The boy stirred restlessly, unconsciously feeling the eyes upon him. The light fell on his face. The perfect face. Beautiful. Every line of the cheekbone was a stanza of poetry, every flicker of eyelash a priceless song.</p><p>Impulsively, George reached out and touched the silken hair, falling under the spell as helplessly as anyone. <em>My god, I love him, too! He isn’t meant to stay here; he’s destined for more. Even I can’t begrudge him that. But why—why must I be the one left behind? Where is the justice in that? Why was he the chosen one?</em></p><p>Again the boy turned, throwing off the light cover. His body was picked up in the moonlight, small but sensuously formed, with the promise of riches to come in the slight, boyish muscles.</p><p>George slid his hand down Jim’s side and the boy moved toward the caress, unconsciously seeking more, the cock stirred against the lean thigh, sleepy and acquiescent. George traced the thigh curiously and the legs parted, the cock hardening with amazing rapidity.</p><p>His first instinct was to withdraw, to leave the boy to his erotic dreams, but George was drunk and the beauty beneath his hand was too arousing to deny. His own groin throbbed with drunken passion. And the anger was still so strong—the resentment against the fates that made this beautiful child the chosen one. <em>He’s no child</em>, George thought suddenly, furiously. <em>He’s almost sixteen. He doesn’t need to be protected anymore</em>.</p><p>Laying down on the bed, George pressed tightly against his brother, pulling the smaller body against his. Without thinking, he took the swelling cock in his hand and began to stroke it. Jim moaned and thrust his hips up tighter into the grip. George’s mouth touched Jim’s neck, tasting the sweet/salty skin, moving down to take in the hardening nipples. His own cock was hard now and aching with need. Shakily he removed his shirt and pants, kicking off his shoes over the side of the bed and rolled, naked, over the sleeping form of his brother. It jerked beneath him in the moment of awareness.</p><p>“George?” The voice was sleepy and only half awake, but wary and uncertain.</p><p>“Shhh. Be still. I won’t hurt you.”</p><p>The arms pushed against him. “What are you doing? Stop it.”</p><p>“It feels good, doesn’t it? Just be quiet.” He brought his mouth, hard and hungry, down upon Jim’s. For a split second he felt a flash of sensual response, but then Jim bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood.</p><p>Jerking back in pain, George slapped him. “Damn you! I told you to be still!”</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Jim accused, voice shaking. “George, please—”</p><p>“Shut up. You liked it well enough a minute ago.”</p><p>“Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it. I don’t like this.”</p><p>There was a note of quiet command in the tone that set George back for a moment, but he laughed. “Don’t be stupid. What can you do? It’s time you paid back for all I’ve had to give up because of you. If you don’t fight, it won’t hurt. You might even like it.”</p><p>Jim didn’t try to talk again, he began to fight. Viciously, with far more strength than George had expected. He was breathless by the time the boy was subdued, and both of them were bruised. With a final slap, George felt the boy become still. “Okay, dammit, now stop it, understand?”</p><p>There was another brief flurry of protest as he turned Jim onto his stomach, even wilder than before and more desperate. George shoved his knee into Jim’s back violently. “Damn you, do I have to break it?” All the action had strangely made him drunker. The adrenaline was rushing through his blood, arousing him unbearably. He felt wild, careless, and more hotly excited than he could ever recall.</p><p>A sob escaped the still body. “Please . . . don’t . . .“</p><p>Angry at the twinge of uncertainty that plea caused him, George struck him again. “Shut up! If I have to give up my future for you, I deserve something back!”</p><p>He wouldn’t let himself think or permit the boy’s fear to reach him. He had to do this, had to be superior in something. Laying full length against the bare form, he tugged the rounded buttocks up into position. Steeling himself to ignore any reaction, he drove into the helpless body.</p><p>A whimper broke from Jim, the shoulders jerked convulsively, but no other sound escaped as George slammed into him.</p><p>“Like it!” George snarled. “God damn you, like something I do! Stop taking and give something!” He throat choked on the words and tears were burning on his own face. He hugged the boy to him tightly, helplessly. “I’m sorry . . . Jimmy . . . I’m sorry . . . I have to . . . have to . . .” Reaching past his guilt, the eroticism of the act ripped at him again—like a hurricane sweeping all other thoughts to the side. He was lost in the hot, swirling sensations and thrust madly, forgetting everything except the climb to the top, the burning center of ecstasy, and the spiraling finish.</p><p>At last he withdrew and fell to one side, gasping, dizzy, head and heart pounding. There was no movement from the boy, no reaction. George reached out a hand to touch the too-still shoulder, but never completed the gesture. He fell asleep, too exhausted and too drunk to do anything else.</p><p>* * *</p><p>George Kirk awoke to a pounding hangover and a motionless warmth beside him. Blearily, he opened his eyes. Jim was staring at him, and George felt his blood freeze in that instant. There was something terrifying about that face—an angel burning in hell.</p><p>“I’m going to kill you,” Jim said simply.</p><p>George sat up slowly. “Why didn’t you do it already?”</p><p>The eyes never wavered, the coldness burning through him. “I wanted you to know it first. I want you to expect it. I want you to suffer first.”</p><p>George reached out helplessly. “Listen, Jimmy, I’m sorry. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing, honest. And . . . it wasn’t so bad, was it? You might’ve liked it if you’d let yourself. Shit, Jim, what’s the big deal. You’re not really hurt.”</p><p>“I didn’t have a choice,” Jim answered, voice and eyes ungiving and unforgiving. “That’s the difference. From now on, I want a choice. No one is ever going to do that to me again. Never. And I’m going to kill you for it.”</p><p>A part of George acknowledged the sudden power in the boy and was involuntarily respectful of it. The change was frightening. But another part wouldn’t let him admit it. This was his little brother, a kid not even sixteen—and a runt at that. How dare he threaten him? George forced a laugh. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, you little bastard. If I didn’t feel so rotten, I’d fuck the crap out of you again.”</p><p>The boy’s eyes didn’t even flicker. There was no fear, no apprehension. And George suddenly knew without a shadow of doubt that he would never have the guts to touch Jim again. It was illogical, ridiculous—but he was scared of the boy. Something had been born in that brief lost struggle. Something ugly and cold and hard. It would never surrender again, never let go. And George suddenly realized that Jim <em>would</em> kill him, surely and certainly.</p><p>He put on a mask of bravado. “Go to hell, you little shrimp. I’ve got things to do today. You stay here and adjust the video for mama, like a good boy.”</p><p>There was no answer, and none was needed. The luminous hazel eyes peeled him and spit him back as worthless, vowing revenge with every flicker of an eyelash.</p><p>George felt like running and did. He used the excuse that he was supposed to meet Casey, but the simple truth was that he couldn’t bear those accusing eyes, and the threat that was no threat but a promise.</p><p>Before he left, he looked back once more, a knot screwing up in the pit of his stomach, a quick aching regret.</p><p>It shouldn’t have come to this. He loved Jim in spite of everything. Hated him, resented him—but loved him so much that part of what had happened had been a twisted, distorted expression of that as well. Inside he knew his crime had been as much against himself as against his brother. But Jim could never understand that, and there was no reason he should. Cain had once loved Abel. Joseph’s brothers had loved Joseph. But the pattern repeated, and the reasons were never sufficient, never justified. He was doomed to be outside his brother’s love, outside any law of nature—even though nature had forced it upon him. The map of his life seemed to have been plotted long before.</p><p>Unable to face the condemning eyes any longer, George left.</p><p>Casey was waiting expectantly for him in the bar. George sat down and put bis head in his. hands, feeling sick and shaky.</p><p>“You look terrible,” Casey commented without much sympathy. “I’ve got something that’ll make you feel great, though.”</p><p>“Yeah?” George replied, uncaring.</p><p>“Your ticket out, pal.”</p><p>George lifted his head. “What? What are you talking about?”</p><p>“You mean you’ve forgotten what we talked about yesterday? I’ve got it all- set up. You back out now, and I’ll break your fuckin’ arm! And the people I’m working with will do worse.”</p><p>George stared at him. “Are you saying you’ve got a way for me to get off-planet? Oh, god . . .” He closed his eyes, relief sweeping over him so strongly he thought he would cry. To leave now, to be free of Earth, to escape from his brother’s hatred.</p><p>“Sure do.” Casey patted his coat pocket. “Right in here. You can leave for Deneva on a transport this afternoon. Well, as soon as we made payment.” He grinned. “Do I come through, or don’t I? That’s one of the finest colony planets in three systems. Even better, you can be a biologist.”</p><p>George grabbed his arm. “Casey, my god, what can I say? Thank you! You know what this means to me—”</p><p>“I know what it means to <em>me</em>,” Casey broke in drily. “I’m set up for the next six months with this deal. That was my price—yours was the ticket out. This customer has a lot of influence in high places. And if you got the kind of stuff he likes, he don’t mind paying for it.”</p><p>George blinked. “What stuff? What’s the deal?”</p><p>Casey pulled out the paper. “Just sign this, and you’ll be on your way.”</p><p>George picked up the paper, trying to get his blurred vision to focus on the confusing words. “What is this?”</p><p>“A transfer of guardianship. You are your brother’s guardian now, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure, since I came of age. Mother isn’t capable of— Wait a minute, what’s that got to do . . . “ He trailed off and stared at the paper again, a chill shooting up his spine. “This relinquishes my duties as guardian. If I sign this, I’m  giving Jim up to some stranger to take full responsibility.”</p><p>Casey’s grin was evil. “More accurately, that’s a bill of sale, old pal.”</p><p>George’s chest felt hollow. “Why . . . why does this . . . person want Jim?”</p><p>“Give me a break! You’re not that naive. Jim’s a pretty kid. Real pretty. All I had to do was flash a holo of him to the proper person and they were eager to pay.”</p><p>“Oh my god.” George shook his head, dropping the paper as if it were on fire. “I can’t . . . How could you think I’d do that—”</p><p>Casey jerked him up by the collar. “Hold on there! You aren’t backing out of this now. I warned you about that. I’ve got an investment in this, too. You told me you would be willing to do anything to get off-planet . . . anything! If you want to ruin your last chance, that’s one thing—but you aren’t screwing up my supply line! You asshole, you must have realized what we were talking about last night. You weren’t that drunk.”</p><p>George was limp in the man’s grasp. “But I didn’t think . . . Casey, what’ll happen to him if I go along with this?”</p><p>Reluctantly the other man let him go, dropping him back in his chair. “At least he’ll get off Earth, too. It won’t be so bad for him. He’ll make out. The fellow only likes them when they’re kinda young. When he gets older he’ll do okay. Tarsus is a good A-1 planet. Anything is better than here, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Just sign the damn paper. I’ll take care of the rest. You’ll be out of it. It won’t be your responsibility anymore.”</p><p>George found a stylus was in his hand and the paper was in front of him, waiting. His head was spinning, and he knew he was going to be sick. His brother’s face was there on the page in front of him, perfect, beautiful, hating. The voice roared in his ears, harsh and unforgiving, “I’m going to kill you.”</p><p>“Jimmy,” George whispered in anguish, “we can’t go back. There’s no way out now. If you could forgive me . . .”</p><p>“Sign it,” Casey ordered impatiently.</p><p>With a shaking hand George Samuel Kirk signed over the life of his brother to Kodos, military governor of Tarsus IV.</p>
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